DISCLAIMER: Ain't mine. Period.

Litany of the Dead

a generation borne by hate

Prologue:

He watched as the van sped away, heading towards an isolated town miles away. He could feel the exhilaration and excitement starting to flow through his body.

His body.

He stared at it, seeing its gruesome state as if for the first time. He was getting used to the pain. The unbearable agony of his severed skin and body when he so much as breathe.

It doesn't matter.

He eyed the road where the van was a few minutes ago.

It doesn't matter.

He took out his mobile phone, dialed and waited. At the end of the line, static can be heard.

"What?" A raspy voice answered.

"They're on their way." He replied.

"Good." The voice at the other end was obviously pleased. Then he disconnected.

He slowly placed his phone back on his pocket, taking extra care not to pull anything that would only worsen the pain.

It doesn't matter.

They're gonna get it too.

Author's Notes: I'm not so sure about all the facts about Slamdunk so if there are any errors… Well…